The Past, Present, And Future
by TheFrankMaster
Summary: FNIA series episode 3. Better location, new anime-tronics, and an expanded menu; these are the upgrades Freddy's Restaurant has received. But as the future approaches, the girls can't help but get curious about the past, leading Douglas to do some investigating…oblivious to the consequences of the discoveries he'll make.
1. Years ago

**The Past, Present, And Future**

 _Chapter one: Years ago_

 **Approximately 35 years ago**

Bill inconspicuously made his way to the maintenance room, where an advanced piece of technology was waiting for repairs. The thing had shown signs of glitching. _Again_.

 _This_ was why the restaurant they intended to create was still a distant fantasy.

The place—the building that would ultimately become said restaurant—wasn't too busy; most of the employees had already gone home by this hour. That was good—the lower the chances were of people finding out about _that_ thing, the better.

Once he reached the backstage area, he closed the door, locking it after a moment of hesitation. Then he turned to the table.

On the table lay a humanoid with purple skin.

"Let's see," Bill spoke, approaching it and sitting down. "Frequent blinking, a minor jerking movement in the neck…" He grabbed a desk lamp and placed it next to the animatronic's head.

The animatronic's magenta eyes were looking straight into his.

Bill returned its look with a glare. "Well," he hissed. "I _think_ I found the problem. Seems like the same issue we've had to deal with ten thousand times now: shenanigans." His glare darkened. "Bonnie. You _do_ still remember what's going to happen if you and the others keep 'glitching' all the time, right? In case you forgot, it's called _being scrapped_."

The animatronic just smiled. She got off the table and onto her feet. Her movements were surprisingly silent.

"They don't seem to suspect anything about your sentience," Bill said, "but if you keep going like this, they _will_ end up throwing you into the incinerator. Glitching animatronics aren't worth shit to them." He sighed. "Look, I know you want to talk to me. I like talking to you all too. But pretending to glitch all the time just so you'll get brought to the maintenance room? That's too risky."

"… I know," Bonnie softly said, glancing to the ground. "We all know…but you're the only one we _can_ talk to."

"And what about Foxy? She rarely ever uses that trick of yours, and yet she talks to me every day."

"Because she's in a completely different area—where almost no one ever goes aside from the engineers."

That was true. No one would notice anyone talking to Foxy, as the place she stayed in was a separate room. One only needed to keep their voice down during a conversation with her. Should the animatronics on the stage suddenly start moving and talking when they weren't supposed to… Well, the consequences of that wouldn't exactly be desirable.

"Look," Bill finally said, "the only time I can talk to you all without any risks is during the night. I just gotta remember to wipe the camera feed. Unfortunately, I _can't_ apply for the nightshift, seeing how I already work all day. Meanwhile, constantly feigning glitches can have some pretty bad consequences in the long run." He paused. "I…don't know where that leaves us. I don't know how to arrange these private conversations without risks."

"What do we do?"

Bill shrugged. "I'll have to find another way to talk to you. I'll do some brainstorming. Until then, please stop glitching. I'm starting to get tired of hearing the janitors brag about how sharp their eyes are."


	2. To activate

_Chapter two: To activate_

 **Present day**

 _She_ opened her eyes for the first time.

The first thing she saw was a person standing right in front of her. The person—a man, probably somewhere around his mid-twenties—backed away once her eyes opened, not averting his gaze from her. He let out a triumphant chuckle.

Instead of greeting her, the man turned to look over his shoulder. "Hey Braylon," he called. "The puppet's active."

She frowned. The 'puppet'? Was that her name?

"Good work, Mason," a gruff voice replied from around the corner behind the man. "The other one's active, too."

"Cool," Mason replied before looking at _her_ again. "What are their names, by the way?"

"They don't have names yet, actually," Braylon called back. "We've got to wait until the manager thinks of some. Or that night guard guy—I'm pretty sure he spends more time alone with those things than anyone else."

Mason huffed. "Yeah. Lucky guy."

"Don't say that too loudly. Heard that the nightshift's pretty friggin' scary. Lot of guards quit after their first night. Said it had something to do with these bots."

"You don't really believe that yourself, do you?" Mason asked as he turned to the corner again. "You don't think those robots are alive?"

"If they were alive, we wouldn't be talking right now…but there's got to be _something_ that scared those guards away."

She—the puppet, as they called her—frowned. What was that supposed to mean? What were they talking about? Her?

Speaking of which, who was she? _What_ was she? How did she even understand what these people were saying? From her point of view, it felt like she'd just been born…

When Mason turned back to her, he visibly flinched. "Whoa…uh, Braylon?"

"Yeah?" came Braylon's voice.

"Uh…this one just…kinda changed."

"What do you mean?"

"She, uh, looks a bit angry. Or confused, rather."

Realizing that her frown had scared him, the puppet instinctively relaxed her face. This caused Mason to flinch again.

"And it's gone!" Mason said. "I _just_ started working here. I didn't sign up for this!"

"Relax," Braylon said. "That's normal. It's amazing how real these things look. Just imagine how expensive it is to make that kind of stuff. That puppet alone must've cost the company loads of money."

"Please stop calling me that…" a third voice said.

This time, Mason flinched so hard that he stepped back and almost fell over a cardboard box. His wide eyes were looking straight into hers as he took another step away.

"Now it's talking, too!" he exclaimed.

Braylon chuckled. "No kidding, huh. Have you even _seen_ those others perform? They play music like an actual human band."

"I _did_ see them perform, but isn't everything they say, like, pre-recorded? This seems pretty… _human_ to me."

"I don't know. I'm no programmer."

The puppet subconsciously blinked. She _did_ talk for the first time…without thinking about it first. That third voice—soft and feminine—belonged to her.

"Welp," Braylon said, "it's 11:30. Time to go home."

"We just leave them on, right?" Mason hesitantly asked. "No turning them off or anything…?"

"Nope. Nothing. Manager's orders. I think their activation and deactivation times are pre-programmed or something. That, or Griffiths just lets them walk around at night."

Mason raised an eyebrow. "Then I think I can see why those other guards were scared."

"Let's go. Don't want to piss off any guards—or Griffiths, for that matter."

As the two humans departed, the puppet—not sure about what to do—timidly remained where she was. For some reason, she didn't dare leave the small room. She was too nervous to even get out of the open box she was standing in.

All she could do was wait as silence fell on her.

Voices eventually became audible throughout the building.


	3. Recruits

**WARNING: EXAM WEEK IMMINENT.**

* * *

 _Chapter three: Recruits_

 **Midnight, five weeks after the events of episode 2**

Douglas walked through the front door of Freddy's, shivering as he did. It was unexpectedly cold outside, and even walking the short distance from his car to the new-and-improved building had practically turned him into an icicle—though that was partly because his jacket was too thin for the current weather.

He sighed in relief when the warmth of Freddy's heating system welcomed him inside the building, prompting him to take off his jacket, revealing his guard uniform underneath. He continued walking deeper into the building and soon came across a larger room, which didn't look dissimilar to the dining area in Freddy's previous location.

On the stage sat a familiar figure with a red guitar in her hands.

Bonnie's sensitive ears had probably picked up Douglas entering the building, but she only stood up when the guard came into what seemed to be the new dining room. After gently putting her guitar on the corresponding stand, she walked towards Douglas with a grin.

"Hey, Douglas," she greeted. "How was your trip?" She then frowned. "Isn't that jacket a little too thin?"

Douglas showed an embarrassed smile and nodded. "Yeah…I kind of underestimated the weather man's predictions."

Bonnie chuckled to that. "Heh. Well, I'm glad you're here. You've got some friends to meet."

"Y-yeah, I know…" Douglas said, remembering the new anime-tronics. He gave Bonnie an inquisitive look. "Why aren't you with them now…?"

"I thought you'd want to see a familiar face first, so I thought I'd wait for you here."

"What? Y-you didn't have to do that for me…"

"But I did." She put a gentle hand on Douglas' shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Really, you should worry about how Chica and Foxy are corrupting our new members."

Douglas sighed. "Oh, no… As if those two alone weren't bad enough." He paused. "And Golden, of course."

"Exactly," Bonnie said, giggling. "Come on, let's meet them."

"U-uh, right…"

Sensing Douglas' discomfort, Bonnie gave him a reassuring look. "Don't worry," she softly said. "You'll be friends with them before you know it. They woke up a little over half an hour ago, but they're good people."

The two proceeded to walk deeper into the building, with Douglas soon marveling at how large the place was compared to the first location. This made him wonder just how much money Griffiths had invested for these upgrades.

"We've also got more merchandise than before, by the way," Bonnie said, as if she was reading his mind. "I think one of our recruits sells, like, plushies and stuff."

Douglas turned to her. "One of the new anime-tronics is in charge of selling merchandise?"

Bonnie smiled. "Well, I don't think she'll be doing the actual selling—that's probably going to be done by a human employee—but she kind of…watches over it, I suppose." She paused. "Unless Kyle _does_ let her sell things. That'd be kind of fun."

"It would definitely be interesting. What are their names, by the way?"

"That's a good question. The others only just started thinking about names. I made a few suggestions myself, but I don't know if they've decided yet."

"I see." Douglas frowned. "I still don't understand why Griffiths didn't do that himself. It doesn't seem like him—he's usually all about planning things long before they can even happen."

"I guess he wanted to let his employees come up with names after showing them how the recruits look. I'd say that fits his MO—employees first, and all that."

Douglas smiled. "Power to the people. I suppose that does fit him."

"That reminds me." Bonnie stopped walking and turned to Douglas. "There's something we were curious about."

"What is it?"

"We've been hearing some rumors about…the past. Of Freddy's Restaurant, I mean."

"Go on," the guard said, intrigued.

"Well, while none of our sources are one hundred percent reliable, we overheard some people talking about…our predecessors."

"Golden and Spring?"

"No. Predecessors from before even they were created."

"I thought Golden and Spring were the first ones…?"

"So did we—until we heard that rumor." She put her hands up. "Again, it's probably nothing…but there might be _some_ kind of truth to it, and it 'sparked our collective curiosity', as Freddy put it."

Douglas put a hand on his chin, looking at her. "You want me to do some investigating?"

"Only if you really want to! And if you've got the time."

Douglas shrugged. "I don't have much else to keep me busy lately—aside from doing my job here, that is. Besides, I'm kind of curious myself."

That made Bonnie smile again. "Alright. Thank you, Doug. Don't feel bad if you change your mind, though."

"Change his mind about what?" a familiar voice in front of them asked. The two looked over to see Chica peeking around the corner ahead. "The rumors?"

"Yeah," Bonnie affirmed.

"Ah." The chicken looked at Douglas, her eyes hopeful. "You're going to take a look at the restaurant's past, then?"

Douglas nodded. "That's the plan."

"Cool." She paused. "Anyway, how about you go ahead and meet our new recruits? Trust me, you're going to like them."

Douglas felt his nervousness strengthen again. "Uh…y-yeah. Okay."

Chica gave him a gentle slap on the back. "Don't worry—they're alright people. A little disoriented, but alright."

"I know," Douglas sighed. "I know…"

They walked through the building towards the room the girls called 'the Prize Corner'—which was apparently where the new merchandise was stored and sold. It was also where one of the new anime-tronics had her 'headquarters'. Douglas steeled himself for the upcoming meeting, but he couldn't erase his nervousness completely. He never could.

Along the way, he saw more additions Griffiths had purchased for the restaurant, and he soon realized that the place was even larger than he'd expected. He knew that the old location was small and needed an upgrade in size, but this was almost too much.

Finally, the three came across a seemingly random doorway in the wall. Douglas recognized Spring's voice coming from the room beyond, and Golden could be heard soon after; the third voice was unfamiliar.

"Here we are," Bonnie softly said. "The employees called this one 'the puppet'."

Chica scowled. "Which is _not_ the name we're going to use."

Douglas looked at her and swallowed.

"You can do this," Chica encouraged. She gave a grin. "You're almost as tall as I am."

That was true; when Douglas had just met the anime-tronics, they looked so unbelievably tall to him. Of course, that was probably because he was still scared of them at the time. Now he saw that he was maybe a centimeter shorter—barely a difference.

"W-well…" Douglas said. "Bravery and height are n-not directly connected…"

"Not _directly_. Anyways, back to the matter at hand…"

"R-right." Douglas fell silent, searching for words.

The voices that had come from the Prize Corner were also gone.

"Hello?" Golden's voice suddenly exclaimed. "Is that our favorite guard I hear?"

Douglas gulped. "U-uh…y-yeah?"

That was _not_ what he'd intended to say.

Golden giggled. "Heh. Newcomer, meet our night guard. You can't see him right now, 'cause he's right behind that wall."

"Stop messing with him," came Spring's voice. One moment later, the golden bunny poked her head out of the doorway. "Hi, Doug! How're you doing?"

"He's shaking in his boots," Chica grinned. Douglas gave her a brief glare.

Spring and Golden came out of the doorway. They were followed by a figure Douglas hadn't seen before—a slender woman with white skin and hair, dressed in black clothing. The new anime-tronic gave Douglas a curious eye. Douglas quietly gulped again as he did his best to hold her gaze.

"Hi," the new anime-tronic greeted. "You're the guard I've heard about."

Douglas quietly nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak; the chance that he was going to stutter was a little higher than he liked it to be.

"We'll let you two get acquainted," Golden said before literally disappearing into thin air. The other three left soon after that, leaving only Douglas and the newcomer.

Douglas wasn't sure what to say once the others were gone. Fortunately, the nameless anime-tronic spoke first.

She gave a smile. "This is where I'd introduce myself…but I don't really have a name yet. Your name's Douglas, right?"

"Y-yeah," Douglas affirmed. He mentally grimaced; of course he stuttered. It wouldn't be him if he didn't.

The newcomer didn't seem to mind it, fortunately. "Can you tell me a little about yourself?"

"Uh…well…where to start?" Douglas let out a sheepish chuckle. "I'm-I'm just a regular guy. N-not much worth telling."

"Your education…? Family, friends, how you got this job…"

"… Right." That was a good start, even if certain parts of his past made him a little uncomfortable. "Okay, well…just don't expect anything too amazing."


	4. Reluctant to leave

**Little unsure about this chapter. Oh well; I hope it's still good enough.**

* * *

 _Chapter four: Reluctant to leave_

"So…" the 'puppet' anime-tronic said. "Earlier, you said you only started working here about seven weeks ago…?"

She and Douglas were heading for the main dining area, hoping to find some chairs. As they moved, both the differences and similarities in their respective ways of walking became very clear; Douglas' hunched, slightly insecure posture was a contrast to the newcomer's elegant but diffident steps.

"Something like that…" he replied. "A lot's happened since then, though."

"I heard about that, but I didn't get a lot of details. The others said that it wasn't their place to tell." She glanced at him. "Something with your past…?"

Douglas nodded silently. Both Zach's visit and the Maxwell incident indirectly happened because of him. While he didn't consider the former a private thing, he was kind of thankful that the latter hadn't been mentioned yet.

"You don't want to talk about it?" the puppet asked.

Douglas shook his head. "N-not right now. Sorry."

"That's fine."

When they entered the main dining area, they both took a seat. The puppet was just about to talk again, only for her attention to be drawn by something. She looked to where they'd come from. Douglas followed her gaze.

There stood someone.

The person—a young brown-haired woman with a blue and red t-shirt and jeans—came into the room. She slowed her pace upon seeing Douglas and the anime-tronic. Oddly enough, she didn't show any sort of alarm when she noticed the latter.

Douglas quickly stood up. "Ma'am," he said, subconsciously moving his hand to his utility belt, which held his baton and his taser. "The restaurant's closed."

The person gave an amused smile. "I know."

Douglas heard the puppet giggle a little behind him. He looked at her, confused.

"That's the other newcomer, Douglas," she said. "She's supposed to be here."

Douglas blinked. He looked back to the other person, feeling his face get warm. This was awkward. He had no idea he was actually looking at an anime-tronic.

"Uh… S-sorry," Douglas muttered, scratching his head and sitting back down.

"Eh, it's fine," the brunette reassured. "Anyway, don't mind me. I'm just taking a look around the place."

"You don't want to come join the conversation?" the puppet asked. Douglas felt a spike of nervousness when she said that; meeting one person was already enough to make him stutter.

Then again, he'd met two people at the same time before—Bonnie and Chica being a prime example.

"Maybe later," the brunette said. "I haven't been moving a lot since I woke up." She paused. "On second thought, I was wondering if you guys have thought of any names yet?"

The puppet's eyes lit up. "Oh, right. Almost forgot about that." She expectantly looked to Douglas. "I don't suppose…?"

Douglas frowned, realizing he'd completely forgotten about that. Having a solid subject to discuss made him feel a little more at ease though, so that helped. "Names, huh… Well, I didn't think of any, but we could do some brainstorming…"

* * *

After becoming acquainted with the recruits—and hanging out with the anime-tronics he already knew—time flew straight to 6 a.m. at high speed. Once the alarm went, the guard packed his things and left for his home.

The next day, he prepared to return to Freddy's to ask Griffiths about the company's past. He didn't expect the manager to give him unlimited access to the company's files, and he knew that the chances of finding anything notable were low—but he wanted to continue the plan anyway. No harm in doing the anime-tronics a favor.

Only when he was about to grab his jacket did he suddenly freeze, his gaze stuck on something in the room.

The phone.

 _It's not like you had much of a choice, man_ , Zach's voice echoed in his head. _You dropped out of college, they can't say that taking the nightshift was a mistake. Especially if you like it there._

Douglas sighed. A few nights ago, Zach had called him to remind him of _that_. Their parents still didn't know what Douglas did for a living. They didn't even know he'd dropped out. He'd been very unwilling to tell them; he really wasn't waiting for the disapproving words they'd spill his way once they learned that he'd chosen a restaurant above college.

But they were bound to find out at some point. Better to hear it from him personally—and soon.

With the ever-growing anxiety in his stomach, Douglas slowly inched towards the phone, eyeing it as if it was some kind of monster he didn't want to wake. With shaking hands, he picked it up and dialed his parents' number.

They answered within the first two rings.

 _"_ _Nicholas Goodwin,"_ his father's voice sounded from the other side.

"Dad," Douglas said. "I-it's Doug."

 _"_ _Douglas,"_ Nicholas greeted. _"How are you? It's been a while."_

"Y-yeah."

A brief silence. _"Douglas,"_ Nicholas said with a sudden sternness. _"What's the matter?"_

"W-what?"

 _"_ _I can practically feel your anxiety, Son. What's the matter? Something going on at college?"_

"Yeah," Douglas admitted after a second of hesitation. His father apparently didn't need many clues to know where the problem began. Not surprising, seeing how most of his problems originated from school.

 _"_ _So? What's the issue?"_

Douglas didn't reply.

 _"_ _Douglas."_

"Dad…" Douglas finally said. "I… More problems there caused my grades to go down…and…I…dropped out."

His father didn't speak at first. _"That's fine,"_ he ultimately said. _"We'll send you the necessary funds to start over. Just tell me how much you need and I'll transfer it to your bank account."_

Douglas squeezed his eyes shut. This was the hardest part. "N-no…"

 _"_ _What was that?"_

"I…I got a job, Dad. I've got friends there, and the pay is good… I don't want to quit."

 _"_ _You took Zach's job offer? You two work at the same company, then?"_

"No. I…work somewhere else."

 _"_ _Where?"_

"F-Freddy's Restaurant," Douglas blurted out. "I-I work the nightshift there."

Silence.

Nicholas' breathing could be heard through the phone. It was steady, but shaking. Like the breathing of someone who was frustrated, but just about managed to keep it contained.

 _"_ _You work the nightshift,"_ Nicholas flatly said. _"In a restaurant."_

"Yes," Douglas softly said.

 _"_ _And you're reluctant to leave."_

"Yes…"

 _"…_ _Might I suggest you either go back to school, or you'll find a job where you can actually put what you've learned over the past years to good use. Preferably both. Those friends at the restaurant won't be gone when you do."_

Douglas sighed. "D-dad, I can't—"

 _"_ Douglas _. Listen to me. The nightshift is better left for someone who can fight burglars._ You _should be standing in a lab. You can make plenty of other friends there."_

"I-I can't leave! I've got to stay… These are the first real friends I have…!"

 _"_ _You can always stay in touch with them after you quit."_

"It's not that easy…"

 _"_ _It_ is _that easy. You just always have to make things hard."_

Douglas remained silent at first. "I have to go," he finally said, his voice soft. "Bye, Dad."

Not listening to the objections his father began to give, Douglas hung up.

* * *

A knock came at the door to the office.

"Come in," Kyle Griffiths called. Only when the door opened did he look up from his paperwork.

Douglas entered the office, closing the door behind him. Griffiths could tell there was something off about the young man, but the manager didn't want to stick his nose into anyone's business, so he decided to ignore it.

"Good afternoon, Douglas," Griffiths said. "Have a seat. How can I help you?"

"I, ah…I would like to ask you something, sir…"

"Ask away," Griffiths said.

"It's about the company's past," Douglas said. "I heard about some…rumors I'd like to investigate."

Griffiths raised an eyebrow.

"… It's about…some things that predated the golden animatronic models," Douglas said.

"Some things," Griffiths repeated. "Some…clandestine things?"

"Wha— No, no! Nothing bad or anything, sir. Just…" He trailed off, visibly desperate for words.

"It's alright, Douglas. I think I might have something you can use." Griffiths opened a drawer in his desk and took out a keyring. "Some relics from the very first version of this restaurant have been preserved. That very first version was never opened to the public, but there's an old warehouse that holds some of those relics. As far as I know, no one has been there in years. You could start your search there."

He handed Douglas the keys. Douglas looked at them, then at the keychain that hung alongside them. An address was engraved in the oval piece of metal.

He recognized that address—it was at a location where few people came anymore. Old buildings and storages that belonged to several different companies dotted the terrain. He'd been there once; the silence and the sense of isolation had unnerved him.

He looked up. "Th-thank you," he said. He hadn't expected anything like this.

"No problem, Douglas," Griffiths said. "By the way, if you find anything worth noting, please tell me. If some of the employees from the old days really _did_ have some shady secrets to hide, I would like to know about it."

"I will. Thank you again, sir."

As Douglas left, Griffiths couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic. He recalled working as a janitor at Freddy's first version. It'd started off as a way to gain necessary money. When he joined, he'd never thought he'd be promoted to manager only sixteen years after. That promotion was nineteen years ago now.

Thirty-five years of working at Freddy's. How time flew.


	5. Pieces of the past

_Chapter five: Pieces of the past_

Douglas stood in front of the entrance to Freddy's old warehouse.

The enormous cube of a building was one of the larger ones around. It was completely silent in the area, and the grassy hills in the distance were the only notable things around aside from the many buildings. The only other thing was the road, which hadn't been used a lot in recent years.

Fog obscured the cities in the far distance, and a light rain fell from grey clouds that obscured the sky. Really, the weather only added to the creepiness.

Douglas nervously glanced around as he walked towards the entrance, slowly taking step after step, his hand gripping the keyring Griffiths had given him. He was suddenly having second thoughts about all this, but he knew that he couldn't give up on his friends' request just because he was afraid. So he continued.

He'd feel a lot safer and less alone if one of the anime-tronics was with him, but that wasn't exactly an option at the moment.

Douglas unlocked the front door and entered the warehouse. The lights inside were off, and the few windows that were present—some of which were worn or smashed—were quite small. Douglas sighed. Why did the warehouse have to look so creepy?

He reached inside his pocket and grabbed his flashlight. It wasn't much, but the beam of white light it emitted gave some comfort.

He took a deep breath. Then he began to explore the place. He soon found out that, despite the warehouse's size, it didn't hold many interesting things. There were some old decorations here and there, but most things of the past had probably been reused for the more recent versions of the restaurant. Even though this was to be expected, Douglas couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

 _Maybe there's more upstairs,_ he thought. He soon spotted a door that turned out to have stairs behind it, and he ascended to the floor above.

Things were a little more interesting here. Rather than old decorations, this floor had boxes with robotic parts, most of which were broken or covered with rust. Oddly enough, there were also torn clothes lying around—familiar red t-shirts and sweaters, black jackets, jeans, formal black attires…

These garments looked a lot like what the anime-tronics usually wore.

Douglas looked at the pieces of metal. _These must've been parts for the girls' endoskeletons and whatnot. I should tell Mr. Griffiths about this—the more spare parts, the better, right?_

He suddenly stepped on something soft. He looked down and frowned.

His flashlight revealed a patch of…purple.

Douglas reached down and picked it up. It didn't feel dissimilar to skin. Douglas winced. What was this doing here?

Then another question hit him. A question that made him freeze.

The skin the anime-tronics had felt almost the same as natural human skin. After having worked at Freddy's for a few weeks—and having endured hugs and handshakes from the anime-tronics—Douglas had learned that their skin actually felt a little different.

The patch of purple he was holding felt like it belonged to an anime-tronic. But none that he knew about had skin with this color.

So the question was: to whom _did_ it belong? Golden and Spring's predecessors?

That thought made Douglas sweat. With an alarmed motion, he shone the flashlight around in search of any humanoid shapes. If these anime-tronics had been here for who knows how long, the isolation must have had some effect on their mental well-being. If he were to run into them now…

At least his objective was clear: _Get out of the warehouse_.

Dropping the purple skin, Douglas immediately made his way to the door. He opened it, expecting to find the stairwell.

His expectations were wrong.

Behind the door was a small room. In that small room, a humanoid figure sat slumped against the wall across from the door, its skin a notable purple.

Douglas' breath froze. In his haste, he hadn't even thought to properly look for the entrance to the stairwell. He'd just walked to the nearest door and blindly opened it.

A minute of silence passed as he stared the figure down. Its magenta eyes were aimed slightly downwards, its body lay completely still. Its skin had some damage to it, showing artificial flesh and metal parts underneath.

Despite its lavender color, the figure reminded Douglas of Bonnie. Aside from the two bunny-like ears that protruded from its head, the clothing it wore was a near exact copy. The only difference was the occasional rip in the fabric.

Having calmed down a bit, Douglas realized that the old anime-tronic looked very…offline. Against his better judgement, he took a careful step forward and waved his hand in front of its eyes. It didn't respond.

Douglas let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He let his flashlight go around the rest of the small room, and jumped a little when the older versions of Freddy and Chica were also illuminated. Aside from the damage and different eye colors, they looked quite similar to their current versions.

Mangle and Foxy's predecessors were nowhere to be found. Douglas reckoned they'd either been destroyed or were never created. Maybe the original version of the restaurant only included the band.

He was just about to leave when he realized there was something bothering him. He didn't need much time to figure out what that something was: the proto-anime-tronics' sentience.

If the current anime-tronics had the ability to think for themselves, what was to say their predecessors didn't? Granted, there was nothing to indicate that they did—their technology was a little outdated compared to their successors', after all—but Douglas knew he had to find out. If these…prototronics… _were_ sentient, didn't they, too, have the right to use that sentience?

He glanced at them. If they were sentient, they didn't deserve to be forced to sleep like this.

Maybe the anime-tronics at Freddy's would know what to do.

* * *

 **Nighttime**

"You're kidding," Chica said, a small smile on her face. "You actually found our predecessors?"

Everyone was sitting on a chair in the main dining room. After Douglas had told Chica that he'd found something interesting, the chicken had summoned the others as well. It had only taken a minute or two before everyone was present.

Douglas nodded. "You, Bonnie and Freddy. I suppose they started over with only a version of Bonnie and one of Freddy—Spring and Golden. They brought you back after that." He shrugged. "Just my theory."

"It sounds plausible," Freddy said, "although I don't see why they would leave Chica out of the golden generation."

"Or why they made us gold at all, instead of…more fitting colors," Golden dryly added.

"I guess they just wanted something more…simple—two 'tronics instead of three—after which they'd returned to the classics," Chica speculated. "Either that, or they're a generation younger than you."

"If they were younger," Golden said, "we'd have known about them. I think that first theory you mentioned is more likely."

"All well and good, I guess," the human-like recruit—who Douglas heard was a vendor, much like the puppet—said, "but then there's that little issue Douglas mentioned. About their sentience?"

Douglas ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I should ask Griffiths to have them repaired."

"As good a guy as Griffiths is," Chica said, "I don't think he'll be willing to spend money on repairing old models."

"I can still ask him for more information," Douglas said. "There's got to be a reason why he hasn't scrapped them. Maybe he does have plans of bringing them back."

"Worth a shot," Chica said, standing up. "Just don't get your hopes up."

"I never do."


	6. Consequences

_Chapter six: Consequences_

Douglas knocked on Griffiths' office door.

"Come in," the manager replied from the other side. Douglas obeyed.

"Good afternoon, Douglas," Griffiths said. "Have a seat. Have you investigated the warehouse?"

"Yes, sir."

"And," Griffiths said, "did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes, sir," Douglas affirmed. "That's actually why I'm here."

"You found evidence of dirty secrets?"

"No. I found…something else."

Griffiths raised an eyebrow.

"Old animatronics, sir," Douglas said. "Like, really old. They were damaged pretty badly. I have no idea for how long they've been there."

Griffiths straightened his back, interested. "Old animatronics, you say… Did they look anything like our current ones?"

"Yes, sir. They looked very much like the ones on the stage."

"Did Bonnie's doppelgänger have purple skin?"

Douglas blinked. "How did you know that, sir?"

"I started working at Freddy's very early," Griffiths explained. "Even before I was done studying, and even before Freddy's was opened to the public. I started off as a janitor, believe it or not. Anyway, thanks to frequent glitching, the animatronics they were building at the time were ultimately scrapped—or, rather, they were _supposed_ to be scrapped."

For some reason, Douglas felt a cold feeling in his veins. As if he was about to learn something he really didn't want to know anything about.

Griffiths sighed. "As it turns out, this never happened. And I believe I know why that is."

Douglas gave him a questioning look.

"There was one employee," Griffiths continued. "Bill Afton. I talked to him once, but I can't say I knew him. He was apparently the best engineer they had, and one of the animatronics' main creators. He went ballistic when it was announced that the animatronics were going to be scrapped."

"You…you think he somehow locked the animatronics in there in order to prevent them from being scrapped? But how'd he have done that without being noticed?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter now. Since you've rediscovered these old models, we can still disassemble them for spare parts."

It was then that Douglas knew what that icy feeling in his veins was.

The only reason why Griffiths hadn't scrapped the old models was because he didn't know they still existed. And now that Douglas had told him about them, the manager was going to scrap them anyway.

Of course there was a chance that the prototronics weren't sentient…but that wasn't a chance worth taking.

"U-uh, c-can't we fix them up?" Douglas desperately blurted out.

Griffiths frowned. "Why would we? We already have animatronic performers that are outfitted with more advanced technology. Any more animatronics of the same type would be redundant."

"W-what about the foxes? We've got two of those, a-and they're not redundant…"

Griffiths frowned again. "Is something wrong, Douglas? You seem very intent on keeping these old animatronics from being scrapped."

Douglas swallowed. "N-nothing, sir," he finally said. "I'm-I'm fine."

"Alright then…" Griffiths glanced at his paperwork. "Well, I'm going to have to make an official plan for recovering those old animatronics. I have to get to that as soon as possible."

"R-right, sir." With shaking legs, Douglas rose from his seat. "I-I have to go, sir."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm alright, sir."

With those words, Douglas left the office.

* * *

 **12 a.m.**

"Guys…" Douglas said to the three girls on the main stage. "We've got problems."

"We heard," Bonnie said, gesturing to the bunny ears on her head. "The old animatronics are in trouble. We have to do something."

"What can we do, though?" Chica asked. "Where do we start?"

"I may have an idea," Freddy spoke up after a moment of silence. She looked to Douglas. "Douglas, since you're the only one who can leave the restaurant, this will have to be done by you."

"I know," Douglas said. "Just tell me what I have to do…"

"You have to seek out this Bill Afton. Kyle said he went mad when the company decided that the animatronics were to be scrapped. Why would he get so angry over such a thing? Sounds like he knew about their sentience, and he did not want them killed. He is the only one who may be willing and able to help us."

"That might actually work," Chica said. "Assuming he _was_ responsible for making them disappear last time…"

"This Bill Afton…" Foxy spoke up from the doorway ahead. She'd appeared there without Douglas noticing. "I think I might've heard his name somewhere. It sounds kinda familiar."

"He was the best engineer they had at the time," Douglas said. "One of the prototronics' creators. I guess that kind of history tends to make you…well-known around the company."

Foxy shrugged. "I guess. But what now? You goin' to call this guy tonight?"

"… No. Not while he's asleep."

"Ah, right." She showed a grin. "Sleep. I keep forgettin' how much you humans depend on that."

Despite the situation, everyone's spirits were a bit lifted by her amused tone and relaxed air.

At least there was that.

* * *

Douglas was sitting in the office, resting his head in his hands.

Too many things were happening at once. First there was his father expressing his not-so-positive opinion about Douglas' job. Then there was the matter about the prototronics. What started as an insignificant but interesting adventure into the restaurant's past had eventually turned into a disaster—simply because Douglas couldn't keep his mouth shut.

He was wondering… If Griffiths succeeded in scrapping the prototronics, could Douglas be considered complicit? Of course, he wasn't the one who scrapped them, but it was his fault that Griffiths knew about the prototronics in the first place.

He sometimes thought back to what his father had said. Douglas felt ashamed and furious at the same time. Ashamed because his father was so disappointed. Furious because, despite his age, he apparently still wasn't allowed to make decisions for himself without being chastised.

He started when he saw something move in the vent on the left side of his office. He relaxed when the brown-haired recruit crawled out. The anime-tronic stood up and stretched.

"Hi," Douglas said, looking from her to the vent and back.

She grinned in amusement. "Heya. How're you doing?"

Douglas shrugged. "Fine."

"Yeah, I hear you say that a little too often."

Douglas looked down. Of course she looked right through him. The anime-tronics always felt it whenever something was bothering him. Even the new ones had that ability, it seemed.

"Look," the brunette said, "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I'll be more than happy to listen."

That was…kind of new. So far in Douglas' experience, the anime-tronics had always just _told_ him to say what was bothering him. As good as their intentions were, their methods proved a little too direct. This newcomer gave him more freedom than that.

"I-it's…not _one_ thing," Douglas finally said. "There's just been so much going on lately."

"You mean with those oldies you found in the warehouse."

"Among other things…"

She tilted her head.

Douglas sighed. "Well, I guess there's no harm in telling you." He hesitated. "How much did the others tell you about my past?"

"Not much. They said it wasn't really their place to tell."

"Alright, well…" He swallowed. "I-I won't bore you too much with the details…but basically, I recently found out that my dad doesn't like me having this job."

She frowned. "Why's that?"

"It's…complicated. I-I'm a college dropout…and my father doesn't like that too much. He wants me to start over so I can get a job that matches my education."

"Let me guess—you don't feel like doing that."

"Yeah." He hesitated. "I…didn't really have many friends before I started working at Freddy's. Now that I do, I like it here."

"Your dad doesn't care about that? That you've got friends here?"

"He thinks it'll be easy for me to find other friends at…wherever he wants me to work."

She regarded him. "Alright," she finally said, "I know this isn't my business, but it's not your father who's supposed to be controlling your life."

"I _know_ , I just…" He sighed. "I rarely ever saw eye to eye with him, and getting his approval was always so difficult. I don't want things to get worse between the two of us."

"That I understand. But still, this isn't your dad's decision. If you want to work here, then I guess that's something he has to deal with." She paused. "I'm sorry, did that sound too blunt?"

"No," Douglas quickly said. "It didn't."

A brief silence fell. The recruit then looked at the clock. "Oh, it's almost six." She looked to Douglas and visibly hesitated.

"You should go to your spot," Douglas said. "Before the morning guard gets here."

She nodded. "Don't let anyone tell you what to do, Douglas. You're your own man."

Douglas hesitated. "Does that…does that make me complicit?"

She frowned.

"I told Griffiths about the prototronics," Douglas softly said. "And now he's going to kill them."

"No," the recruit finally said. "That's not on you. You couldn't've known."

The alarm on Douglas' watch went off. It was six a.m..

The recruit vanished in the dark corridor ahead.


	7. Bill

**Gameknight131:** _Thank you!  
No, Golden and Spring didn't know about the prototronics. If they did, they'd have mentioned it._

* * *

 _Chapter seven: Bill_

Douglas stood before a door, shaking like mad.

Finding William "Bill" Afton hadn't been too difficult. Really, the only thing stopping Douglas from knocking on the man's door was the fear of what he was going to face in there. If the prototronics really were sentient, and if Bill was aware of that, the engineer wasn't going to be happy when he learned that Douglas had talked a little too much.

But Douglas couldn't postpone this. Not when lives were at stake because of him.

With shaking hands and legs, he walked up the few steps to the door. Afton's house wasn't very large, but it wasn't notably small, either. It looked…normal. Maybe too normal for someone who had such a large role in the creation of sentient anime-tronics.

Douglas raised his hand, hesitated, and knocked. The moment he touched the door, he felt like he'd made an irreversible mistake.

He lowered his hand, breathing out shakily.

Then the door opened, revealing a man in his late sixties, whose silver eyes sternly glared at Douglas. His jet black hair was starting to turn gray.

Douglas swallowed as he looked into those uncompromising eyes. "S-sir?" he asked. "Mr. Afton? Mr. William Afton?"

"Yeah?" Afton said, sounding annoyed. "Who are you?"

"U-uh… My-my name is Douglas Goodwin, sir. I would like to ask you some questions?"

Afton frowned, examining Douglas. "Questions?"

"A-about Freddy's Restaurant…"

Bill's eyes widened. He stepped forward, causing Douglas to step back. Despite the younger man's superior height, Afton didn't need a lot of effort to intimidate him.

"Freddy's Restaurant?" the older man said. "And what makes you think I know anything about that place?"

"Y-you created the original animatronics!" Douglas blurted out. "And you were responsible for hiding them from the company!"

A tense silence fell. Douglas felt that his gaze was fixed on Afton's silver eyes, which glared back. Douglas realized he'd made a mistake—accusing Afton of stealing the prototronics from the company was probably going to make the engineer mad.

"You don't know anything about me," Afton eventually said. "You don't know anything about Freddy's Restaurant. You have no idea what was at stake when they decided to scrap those animatronics. Do you understand me?!" He turned back to his door. "Get out of here, kid."

"Wait!" Douglas said. "The animatronics you created have been found!"

That caused Afton to stop.

"F-Freddy's…" Douglas said. "They found them. They're going to scrap them."

Afton turned to him. His eyes showed doubt.

"Y-you…" Douglas stuttered. "I need your help to stop that."

"Come in, kid," Afton finally said, voice soft. "Then you can tell me the full story."

Douglas uncertainly followed the man inside the house. Afton led him to the living room. Like the rest of the house, it wasn't too big or too small—it was average.

"Take a seat," Afton said to him with an almost venomous voice. Douglas hesitantly sat down on the couch, not letting the other man out of his sights.

Afton sat down in a chair across from him. "Now," Afton said, "what do you mean, 'they're going to scrap them'?"

"Th-the manager found out about the old animatronics. He thought they'd been scrapped, but when that turned out to be untrue, he decided to have them moved to Freddy's current location—to use them for parts."

"For the modern animatronics," Afton said. A clear hint of resentment could be heard in his voice. "Kyle Griffiths is the place's manager, right? Does he know the animatronics are sentient?"

"No."

"You obviously do."

Douglas blinked. He'd walked right into that one. Not that it mattered; at least now he knew there was no need to hide anything.

"How'd he find out where the old 'tronics are?" Afton asked.

That question was exactly what Douglas was afraid of. "U-um…someone investigated the warehouse the animatronics are stored in."

"Who?"

Douglas hesitated.

"Tell me, kid," Afton growled. "If I've got an enemy, I'd like to know it."

"It was me."

The words had left Douglas' mouth in a moment of impulsiveness. The temperature in the room dropped.

After a while of silence, Afton stood up. Douglas recognized the look in the man's silver eyes: Afton was fuming, but contained it to an extent.

"You told Kyle Griffiths about the animatronics?" Afton said.

"I-I didn't know he was going to scrap them! I didn't mean for this to happen…!"

"But it happened!" Afton shouted. "Do you know how much effort it took to hide those animatronics? Do you know how much _luck_ we needed to let it happen unnoticed?! Do you have any idea what those 'tronics went through?"

Douglas was frozen. He had buried himself into the backrest of the couch, fearfully staring up at the older man.

Afton exhaled, hissing. "Give me one good reason not to kick you out of my house."

"I know where they are! If we can get there before Griffiths, we can move them away again…!"

Afton sighed, sitting back down. "It's not that easy…"

"It's all I've got, sir."

"Don't call me sir."

"Sorry."

"How'd you find out about their sentience?"

Douglas hesitated. Was it safe to tell him about the anime-tronics? Afton knew about the old ones' sentience, so…

"I…" Douglas finally said. "I work the nightshift…and…the current animatronics—"

"They're alive too," Afton deduced. He didn't sound surprised.

Douglas nodded. "How'd you hide them?" he said after a moment of silence. "The old animatronics?"

Bill glanced at him. "There was a fellow employee I trusted. He was in charge of moving stuff between the restaurant and the company's storages. He was also involved with…less legal things. After I'd deactivated the animatronics, I told that guy to send them to some warehouse without letting anyone know. I didn't know where he took them, just that he made sure they'd disappear from the company's sights."

"The company was dabbling in less legal things?"

"No, no. It was just that particular guy. It had nothing to do with the company, just with him—if they'd known, he'd have been fired. But those less legal things had given him enough experience to know how to hide the animatronics properly. I think he had some friends helping him, too."

"I…see." Douglas paused. "Wait… You said _you_ deactivated the animatronics?"

"I didn't _want_ to. My boss' orders." He sighed. "Whatever. Just get out of my house."

Douglas started. "What? But sir—"

"I told you to stop calling me sir. Now get out."

"But the animatronics—"

"I said get out."

As calm as his voice was, Douglas knew better than to risk making this man angry again. Still, this was…unbelievable. Didn't Afton care about those prototronics at all?

Douglas reluctantly stood up. Afton did the same before showing Douglas the door.

* * *

When the kid was gone, Bill went back to his living room. He didn't sit back down.

Instead, he went straight to the phone.

He dialed a number and put the phone at his ear. It took a few rings before the call was answered.

"Henry?" Bill said. "Remember that favor I asked you for a couple years ago? Yeah. I need to know where they are. There's shit on the horizon. Again."


	8. What to do

**Okay, so unfortunately this chapter is especially short. I apologize for that.**

* * *

 _Chapter eight: What to do_

"Great," Chica said. "So we can't count on Bill, and now Griffiths wants _you_ "—she pointed to Douglas—"to take him right to those prototronics."

They'd set up their regular meeting 'procedure'—sitting on chairs at the same table in the dining room. Douglas was resting his face in his hands, ashamed.

"What now?" Bonnie—who sat next to Douglas—softly asked.

Douglas removed his hands from his face, letting them run through his hair before putting them down and leaning back in his seat. "Griffiths doesn't want to take them just yet. For today, he just wants me to show him where they are. We still have time. I'll contact Afton at some point in the future, and…see where he can lead us."

It sounded too hopeful—what were the chances of Afton actually knowing anything that might save the prototronics? No one said anything about it though. The room was completely silent.

"What if we tell Griffiths?" the puppet finally spoke up.

Everyone looked at her.

"If he knows we're sentient," she explained, "he'll have a reason not to scrap those prototronics, won't he?"

The other newcomer nodded. "That's actually a good point."

"I wish it were that simple," Freddy said. "Unfortunately, every single one of Douglas' predecessors so far panicked when they saw us move around on our own. I doubt this will be any different with Kyle."

"If he does panic," Spring softly said, "who knows what he'll do to us."

"It's too risky," Golden concluded.

"But what if there's no other option?" the puppet asked. "What if we have to? We can't just stand by and let those prototronics get scrapped."

"Griffiths is going to bring them here, right?" Chica eventually said. "Can we help them while they're here?"

"How?" Douglas asked. "Even if there's someone here among us who knows enough about engineering, I doubt Griffiths will give us the necessary parts to repair the prototronics."

A silence fell. Evidently, everyone was out of ideas.

Douglas sighed. "Alright, well…guess we're going to have to do some more brainstorming. There's got to be some way…"


	9. Scrap

_Chapter nine: Scrap_

A figure observed the storehouse from a distance.

He'd driven all the way to this remote place for some oversized building that supposedly held what he sought. He sighed in annoyance; finding that which he needed wasn't going to be easy. The place looked like it could contain a giant or two, and he'd probably need to bash in a window in order to enter it.

But he wasn't about to stop here. He had to hurry. Finding it wouldn't be the end of his mission here.

It'd just prove very beneficial.

* * *

 **A little after 6 a.m.**

There was no plan.

That idea was ceaselessly haunting Douglas as he drove Griffiths to the warehouse. There was no plan to save the prototronics. There was no way to prevent Griffiths from taking and disassembling them.

Before Griffiths had arrived at Freddy's, Douglas had given Bill Afton a call to ask for help. The engineer hadn't even picked up the phone. How encouraging.

Like before, Douglas parked the car in one of the parking lots at the edge of the terrain. One other car was parked there, but he didn't think much of it. Probably someone from some other company looking around their old storages.

As he and Griffiths proceeded to walk to the warehouse, the guard grabbed the key from his pocket.

Griffiths looked at the building before him. "Huh," he said. "They said the building was large, but to actually see it for myself makes me wonder how many things the company has stored in here."

"It's really not that much, sir," Douglas said as he reluctantly unlocked the door. "Mostly old decorations and chunks of metal on the first and second floor."

Douglas opened the door and, with shaking hands, grabbed his flashlight from his pocket. He shone it forward, suddenly feeling tense. He was literally about to give Griffiths the necessary knowledge to kill the prototronics.

The tension he felt only got worse as they went up the stairs. Griffiths asked Douglas if he was alright, and the guard only replied with a quiet "Fine", after which he continued ascending. It was a lie, of course, but Griffiths didn't push it.

Once upstairs, Douglas looked around in search for the small room where he'd found the prototronics. He didn't need too much time to find it.

He strode over, opened the door, and shone his flashlight to the opposite wall where he'd found Bonnie's predecessor.

There was nothing there.

"Douglas?" Griffiths asked as he went to stand next to the guard.

"It's gone," Douglas whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"T-the animatronics…!" Douglas looked at the rest of the room. The old Freddy and Chica were gone as well. "They were here last time."

"You're saying that someone moved them?"

Footsteps were heard behind them.

They turned around. The sound came from behind a large steel pallet rack, which held boxes that largely obscured the silhouette on the other side.

Douglas and Griffiths shared a glance. The former quickly turned his flashlight off. Who else could be in the warehouse? Wasn't this area restricted to Freddy's employees?

The footsteps stopped.

Silence.

"Who's there~?" a female voice suddenly sang. It sounded way too sweet. "Who came to disturb my grave~?"

Douglas' breath was stuck in his lungs.

"I'm just kidding," the voice said, chuckling. "I know exactly who it is."

Douglas felt a light tapping on his shoulder. He looked to Griffiths, who was inching towards the door that led to the stairs. Douglas swallowed. For now, the pallet rack was protecting them from the silhouette, but if they were to run for the door, the unidentified person would definitely hear them.

Despite his limited view of the woman, Douglas had an idea who it might be. That voice sounded a lot like Chica's. It had to be her predecessor.

"Kyle," the woman said. "Don't you remember me? You know, from the old place? Me, one of the three bots who kept glitching and all that? Man…when I last saw you, you were a janitor, right? Now look at you—manager of Freddy's Restaurant. And now you're thinking about turning me into scrap. How hurtful."

Griffiths glanced at Douglas, who shrugged. They continued silently walking towards the stairwell door.

"And your friend's here too, I've heard," Proto-Chica said. "What was his name again? Douglas?"

Douglas' eyes widened. In the dim light ahead of him—provided by the few windows nearby—he saw Griffiths briefly glance in his direction, but the manager didn't stop walking.

"Douglas Goodwin," the prototronic continued. "Night guard at Freddy's. I'd really, _really_ like to meet him. I've been told he's a good guy."

With every sentence this prototronic said, Douglas' blood ran colder. How'd she know who he was? Who'd told her he was a good guy? Who'd told her he was the _night guard at Freddy's_?

Something told him he should know, yet the answer evaded him.

He heard Proto-Chica's soft footsteps head deeper into the room—in the opposite direction. That was good.

"Now," the woman said, "Where are you?" She giggled. "You should know that there's no way out—unless you can get past Bonnie and Freddy, that is. They may or may not be downstairs. Or upstairs. Just thought I'd mention."

Her footsteps and her voice faded away as she walked to the other side of the room, away from Douglas and Griffiths. Griffiths looked over his shoulder one more time before picking up his pace ever so slightly. Douglas did the same.

As they got closer, Douglas continuously glanced back and forth, from the prototronic—that was, the direction in which she'd gone—to his feet. He had to make sure he wouldn't trip; Chica would definitely hear that.

They eventually reached the door without a problem. Douglas winced at the soft creaking sound it made when Griffiths opened it, but Chica didn't seem to hear it. Thankfully.

"What now, sir?" Douglas asked once they were back in the stairwell, his voice hushed. "If Bonnie and Freddy really are somewhere around here…"

"I'm willing to bet they're downstairs, guarding the front door," Griffiths whispered. He was visibly nervous, but somehow managed to keep it together quite well. "It would make the most sense."

"We don't know that," Douglas said. "We're taking a huge risk here, sir."

"Still, I think we should go upstairs—where they may not expect us to go. See if there is something there that could help us. A fire escape or something."

"Even if Bonnie and Freddy aren't upstairs, it's possible that Foxy and Mangle are. Again, a risk."

"We can barely turn our backs here without taking some sort of risk. We should not split up, but we've got to make a choice before anyone—or anything—else makes an appearance in this stairwell."

"That's true. Upstairs it is, then. Just keep an eye out for the others; they're really good at hiding."

"How do you know that?"

It was then that Douglas realized he'd made a mistake. He managed to stay calm, however. "I-I mean, it's just a suspicion. If whoever reactivated them wanted to scare us, giving the animatronics some way to hide would be a perfect idea, right?"

Griffiths eyed him. "If you say so," he finally said. Douglas knew the manager didn't fully believe him, but that didn't matter. All he cared about was escaping the warehouse.

They went to the next level of the building. In the stairwell, Douglas remained in front while Griffiths made sure that they weren't being followed. Sweat covered Douglas' head. This reminded him of his first night at Freddy's, when he had his crap scared out of him by Bonnie and Chica. At least he was able to stay level-minded this time.

The next floor held smaller metal components—screws and nails, with the occasional drills, screwdrivers and hammers among them. Douglas wasn't completely sure why so many nails were necessary for maintaining the restaurant, but he decided not to question it.

 _They should've spent more money on lights in here. I can barely see two feet ahead of me._

As he and Griffiths snuck past the pallet racks, the silence on this floor became more deafening. At first glance, there didn't seem to be anyone nearby—but that didn't mean much in a world of sentient animatronics, now did it?

Douglas also made sure to look up. For all he knew, the prototronics could be hiding up in the pallet racks. The thought of meeting one of them made him shiver.

"I don't think there's anyone here, sir," Douglas whispered as Griffiths examined the pallet racks they passed. "Just some equipment for—"

The sound of the stairwell door creaking open echoed through the room.

They instantly looked to where it came from, but boxes on several pallet racks blocked their view again. The door soon slammed shut, and soft footsteps rang out.

 _I spoke too soon._

Douglas quietly moved closer to the pallet rack that blocked his view. He peeked past the boxes as best he could.

He could vaguely make out a humanoid shape, its skin a familiar purple. Bonnie's predecessor.

Douglas turned back to Griffiths and gestured for the manager to move. Griffiths did so. His footsteps made more noise than Douglas liked, and the guard took some more glances towards the purple figure to see if it reacted to the sound.

He slowly drew his taser. He didn't know if it'd work against the prototronics, but he needed some way to defend himself against them in case he'd be cornered. The taser was his best chance.

Stepping as lightly as he could, he followed Griffiths towards the other side of the enormous room. He knew that the anime-tronics at Freddy's had sensitive ears and would be able to hear them easily. He prayed that the prototronics didn't have such an advantage.

Griffiths zigzagged through the room and past the pallet racks. On one hand, this seemed like a good idea; it'd only make them more difficult to find. The only problem was that it didn't exactly speed things up. Douglas noticed how Griffiths was gradually heading for the room's outer walls—where a fire escape was more likely to be situated—but it'd take a while before they actually reached it.

Douglas sighed inaudibly, glancing behind him for the who-knows-how-manyeth time. Part of him wished that the anime-tronics were here; they might've been able to—

The sound of a box hitting the ground nearby erupted, followed by a few quiet whispers.

Both Douglas and Griffiths immediately looked to where the noise had come from. It couldn't've been more than…what, three meters away? Douglas tried to look past the boxes on the pallet rack in front of him, but it was too dark to see anything.

Then, four pinpricks of light emerged from the other side of the pallet rack. Douglas had seen those before, back at Freddy's whenever one of the anime-tronics were in darker areas. He knew what they were.

The eyes of the prototronics, looking at him and Griffiths from the darkness.

"RUN!" Douglas cried.

Griffiths obeyed, running ahead. Douglas went after him. A few giggles were audible over their footsteps.

Griffiths wasn't exactly an athlete, but despite the situation he still knew what to do. He continued zigzagging during the run in an attempt to throw off the prototronics. What amazed Douglas was that it actually seemed to work, as the eerie giggles were replaced by confused voices that faded farther away with each step he took.

He had no idea where Griffiths was going, and the manager himself didn't seem to know, either. They just had to get away. Find a fire escape. Or perhaps return to the stairwell.

Douglas saw eyes appear in the distance ahead, accompanied by a shadow that looked just like Bonnie. Fortunately, he and Griffiths were just able to take a turn right and continue running.

Douglas heard Griffiths' breathing turn less steady. The manager was running out of energy. They needed to find an exit soon.

From the top of a nearby pallet rack, Proto-Freddy jumped down to the ground in front of them. She landed almost gracefully, barely making a sound.

Griffiths came to a halt. Douglas almost ran into him. The guard grabbed Griffiths by the shoulder and turned around.

Proto-Chica and -Bonnie were there, blocking his path.

He looked around frantically, but there was no way he or Griffiths could outrun the robots.

"We're surrounded," Griffiths quietly said to him, panting.

The old Freddy grinned. Then she took a step towards them.

Douglas raised his taser.

"Hey!" an oddly familiar voice intervened, drawing attention. "Stop that already!"

From behind Bonnie and Chica, another shadow emerged. This one was shorter than them and looked more masculine.

Douglas frowned, grabbed his flashlight and shone it at the new figure. His eyes widened. "Bill Afton?"

Narrowing his eyes at the white light, Afton nodded. "Yeah, it's me. Aim that thing somewhere else, will you?" He looked at the prototronics with a glare. "What part about 'staying put' did you three not understand?"

"Aw," Chica said. "Bill…"

"No," Afton calmly said. "No one here is in the mood for more warehouse chases. Just go downstairs, and I'll meet you there later."

The prototronics looked at him for a second. Afraid that they were going to refuse, Douglas kept his taser at the ready. That turned out to be unnecessary though, as the girls ultimately walked in the direction of the stairwell door. Chica murmured a few more complaints, but that was it.

Afton looked at Douglas and Griffiths. "So," the engineer dryly said. "How's everyone doing today?"

Griffiths gave the man a glare.

"Oh, come on, Kyle," Afton said. "You should know this wasn't my doing." He grinned. "Just so we're clear, you're completely safe from them. They'd never hurt a fly, even now. But before you leave, there's something I need to tell you."

"Does it justify your sadistic sense of humor?" Griffiths asked. "Sending those animatronics after us…"

" _Sending_ them? All I did was repair them. What they did after that wasn't me." He threw up his hands. "Come on! I only needed to do a little research to find out about how many people ran away from the nightshift at your restaurant. You really thought they left because the office was so terrifyingly stuffy?"

Griffiths gruffly turned to Douglas. "Do you know what he is talking about?"

Douglas hesitated.

"Come on, don't bring Douglas into this," Afton said. "That's my job. For now, though, all I need to tell you is that these animatronics are sentient—same goes for the animatronics that work at Freddy's right now. I made friends with the old models back when the restaurant was still just a distant fantasy."

A silence fell.

"The animatronics?" Griffiths flatly said. "Sentient? Their performance scared me, I will admit. But sentience? This is not some science fiction story."

Afton looked at him. Then he turned to Douglas. "Are you sure about that, Kyle?"

Griffiths frowned and looked to Douglas again.

"I-it's true, sir," Douglas finally admitted, his voice quiet. "Th-they walk around freely during the night. They can talk, think for themselves… Th-they're like humans. They're the reason I started digging in the company's past in the first place. When I found the old models, I-I suspected they had similar traits…similar _sentience_ …so I tried to stop you from destroying them. I even asked Mr. Afton for help."

"I'll admit," Afton said, "I wasn't being too polite to him—but, y'know, trust issues. It's a good thing he came to me when he did, 'cause I wouldn't've been able to keep the 'tronics safe from you if he hadn't."

Griffiths looked conflicted. His gaze went from Douglas to Afton and back, visibly trying to make sense of the situation. He obviously didn't know what to believe—for all he knew, Douglas and Afton could be working against him or playing some prank. But he didn't seem to immediately draw such a conclusion, which was surprising to say the least.

"You don't even know if they're really sentient," Griffiths finally said. "They're programmed to act like humans. I think the both of you got fooled."

"And they've got pre-programmed lines they can say and actions they can perform," Afton affirmed. "But I'm pretty sure that chasing people around a warehouse isn't included in that."

"Chica _did_ say our names downstairs…" Douglas said. "And the ones at Freddy's keep saying and doing things that aren't part of their programming, too."

A pause. "It…would certainly explain much," Griffiths finally said. "The animatronics hunting the guards… The guards themselves always came up with a story like that, but I never believed them."

"O-oh, they're not _hunting_ the guards," Douglas quickly said. "The guards were just scared of them. I was scared too. I even tried to escape, but…ah…" He chuckled sheepishly. "Chica stole my keys."

"Really?" Afton said. "Sounds like she's inherited some traits from her predecessor."

"Why keep this a secret?" Griffiths asked Douglas. "Those other guards looked disturbed. But if _you_ , the _one_ exception to that rule, had told me about this, I might have done some investigations."

"They-they asked me not to!" Douglas defended. "I…made a promise to them."

"Can you honestly blame him, Kyle?" Afton asked. "So far, almost everyone who found out that the animatronics were alive ran away screaming. You're Freddy's manager—you wouldn't've fled, you would've had them disintegrated."

Griffiths fell silent, looking like he was out of arguments to use. Two of Freddy's employees telling the same story? That was no coincidence. "If I'd known about their sentience," he eventually said, his voice shaking, "I would never even have _thought_ of scrapping the old models. Taking them apart would've been…!" His hand went to one of the nearby pallet rack to keep his apparent sudden dizziness from getting the better of him.

"Murder," Afton calmly said. "Exactly right. It would've been murder."

Douglas shot Afton a glare. "Sorry, sir," Douglas said to Griffiths. "I should've told you."

Griffiths looked down. His grip on the pallet rack visibly tightened, but he eventually let out a breath. "I… You were right. I doubt I would've believed you." He glanced at the guard. "Besides, you did everything in your power to stop me from coming to this warehouse."

"Well, anyways," Afton eventually said. "Now that everything's clear, I have some things to ask _you_. These old models are going to need a place to stay. This warehouse is old and abandoned—a pretty shitty home. Can you help them out? A warehouse that's just a _little_ bit better is enough."

"I will…think about it," Griffiths softly said. "I may also have them fully repaired."

"Thanks." Afton started walking towards the stairwell door. "I'll call you sometime to remind you, I guess. For now, I'm just going to keep searching this warehouse; Foxy is still missing, and I didn't have much time to look for her before you came along."

"Bill."

Afton stopped and turned to the manager.

"Can you tell the animatronics that I am sorry?" Griffiths asked. "For nearly…scrapping them."

"Will do."

Afton left. Griffiths looked to Douglas. "Those new animatronics…" Griffiths eventually said. "The puppet and the balloon vendor…are they…?"

"Yeah, they're sentient too."

Griffiths exhaled. "The mere experience of being activated for the first time must've been…confusing for them. All of them."

Douglas shrugged. "They never really talk about that, actually. But they're good people. They were actually the ones who…took care of Maxwell."

"And your brother? Does he know?"

"Yes, he does. He also made a promise to keep it a secret."

Griffiths visibly hesitated. "I…would like to meet them."

Douglas started "Are you sure about that, sir?"

"Why wouldn't I be? For nineteen years, I've seen them as my property. Now that I learned the truth, I want to be able to see them for who they really are." He paused. "In fact, I want to meet the older models too, eventually. For now though, I should probably keep my distance; I _was_ their would-be killer, after all."

Douglas hesitated. "I'm…surprised to see that you actually believe me. About this whole sentience thing."

"Truth be told, I still want to see further evidence. But I admit that the animatronics did seem like they were acting of their own accords."

"Evidence can be arranged, sir," Douglas said.

As they walked back to the parking lot—they didn't see Afton or the prototronics on their way out—Douglas felt relief hit him. Griffiths finally knew the truth, and the prototronics were going to live.

It had been a close call; if it weren't for Griffiths' open-mindedness, things still would've ended badly. If Douglas hadn't visited Afton, the engineer wouldn't've been able to intervene. If it weren't for the anime-tronics' help, Douglas might not have known what to do.

In the end, the guard was thankful for many things.

* * *

 **This is not the end yet. Two more chapters—including the epilogue—to go.**


	10. Proto-fox

**thx (guest):** _Well, I don't think I'll add a 'canonical' answer to who Douglas likes in the story, though during the making of the first FNIA episode I briefly considered creating a relationship between Douglas and one of the girls (I_ was _actually thinking Mangle).  
Is this the last…chapter? Story? Well, one more chapter (that being the epilogue) will follow after this one. As for a sequel…I don't know. I at least intend to let the series rest for a while. There're some other stories that I want to work on, and there is some school that I _have _to work on._

* * *

 _Chapter ten: Proto-fox_

 **10:00 p.m.**

"So," Griffiths said as he entered the main dining room with a cup of coffee. "We're alone now. I sent everyone else home early—" He stopped when he saw the empty stage.

"I think the anime-tronics noticed that, sir," Douglas dryly said, putting all of his effort into keeping a straight face. "Not sure where they are right now."

Griffiths looked at him. "You mentioned that at least three of them were skilled tricksters?"

"Golden, Chica and Foxy, yes."

"And now they're freely roaming the restaurant?"

"Yes…" Douglas froze. "Shit."

Freddy—who stood in the doorway—chuckled. "Relax," she said. "They aren't in any position to play tricks on you at the moment."

Douglas blinked. "Hey, Freddy. Didn't see you there."

Freddy smiled, then looked to Griffiths. "I see we have a visitor," she said. "Although I suppose that calling the manager a visitor isn't very appropriate."

Griffiths looked a little uncomfortable, but he remained polite. "I hear my reputation precedes me," he said. "I hope I haven't butchered it too much."

"Not at all," Freddy reassured.

Douglas smiled to himself. These two were probably going to get along. "Hey, if you don't mind," he said to them both, "I'm going to check on the others."

Griffiths nodded. "Go ahead."

Douglas left. Griffiths looked at Freddy, who had grabbed a chair and sat down on the other side of the nearby table. "I…suppose this explains a lot," the manager said as he, too, sat down, still a little apprehensive. "I trust you've been good friends to Douglas."

"We do what we can."

"I'm glad," Griffiths said. "You'll have to forgive me—it has barely been a day since I found out about your sentience."

"That is quite alright."

"You know more about why Douglas suddenly got so interested in the company's past, don't you?"

"We actually asked him to investigate," Freddy said. "We heard rumors about those old animatronics you encountered in the warehouse."

Griffiths glanced away. "And my first instincts when I heard about them were to disassemble them."

"That wasn't your fault. We've kept our sentience a secret for years."

"Because you were afraid of what I would do."

Freddy nodded, looking a little ashamed. "After watching all those guards flee," she softly said, "we didn't want to take any risks."

"A wise decision," Griffiths sincerely said. "Truth be told, I'm unsure as to what I would've done if I had found out. Regardless, now that I do know, I'll see if I can't make some upgrades to any of your working conditions I may have neglected."

* * *

As Douglas approached his office, he soon saw that one of the newcomers—the balloon vendor who looked human—was sitting in his chair. She was curiously looking at the tablet, changing to different cameras. She looked up—quickly putting the tablet down—as Douglas entered the office.

"Hey," Douglas greeted. He glanced at the tablet. "Am I late?"

"No. I just wanted to try out the chair."

"And then you got distracted by the tablet," Douglas concluded.

The recruit stood up. "I suppose," she dismissively said. "Anyway, how're things going? After that adventure this morning…"

"You already reminded me that telling Mr. Griffiths about your sentience was _her_ idea," Douglas dryly said, referring to the puppet. "And that you were the only one who agreed." He paused. "It was actually Afton who spilled the beans, though…"

"That's not what I meant. I mean how does it look right now? With your boss?"

"Oh, that." Douglas' tone turned serious again. "Well, he started a conversation with Freddy, so…good, I guess. I really think he can get used to the idea of sentient animatronics."

"I'm glad." She smirked. "Guess Mari's idea wasn't so bad after all."

"Well, I think the way it was delivered also contributed to… Wait, 'Mari'?"

"Since no one else here has come up with names, the two of us have been experimenting a bit. Mari is short for marionette. She seemed to like it when I brought it up." She shrugged. "I mean, she's been calling me 'Brunette' for obvious reasons, and I'm okay with that."

"'Brunette'," Douglas repeated. "Well, if you're both comfortable with that…"

She smirked. "You don't think they're good names?"

"I didn't mean that!" Douglas said, though he was smiling. Maybe he would've felt more uncomfortable at her teasing seven weeks ago.

 _Huh,_ he thought. _I guess I have changed since starting my job as a night guard._

"You want to sit?" Brunette asked. "You _are_ the guard, after all."

Douglas shrugged. "Eh. You can stay seated if you like—"

"Douglas," a third voice said. Douglas turned to where it came from to see Freddy approach from the hallway.

Douglas frowned. "You're done talking with Mr. Griffiths already…?"

"No," Freddy said. "But there is someone at the door. Kyle went to investigate."

"Someone's at our door? At this hour?" Douglas turned to his desk and grabbed the tablet. As he flipped through the cameras, his eyes widened.

"What is it?" Brunette asked as she stood up.

"It's…Afton," Douglas whispered. "Bill Afton. Griffiths let him in."

"What on Earth is Afton doing here?" Freddy asked.

Douglas put down the tablet and walked past Freddy out of the office. "I'm going to find out," he said.

* * *

Foxy and Mangle were already present when Douglas appeared in the main dining room. He frowned at Afton, who was looking at the red she-fox in particular. Griffiths—who was holding an old official-looking document in his hands—appeared shocked.

"Guys?" Douglas asked. "What's going on?"

Foxy shrugged. "Beats me. Kyle and Billy just kinda walked in here."

Both Mangle and Griffiths snapped their gazes at her. Afton got a look of surprise.

"What?" Foxy said.

"'Billy'…?" Mangle softly said.

"Interesting…" Afton said. "I never told you who I was."

A brief silence. Foxy flashed a smile. "What? Doesn't pretty much everyone here know who you are? Bein' the legendary engineer who built the first 'tronics and all…"

"Well, his name is mentioned in several documents," Griffiths confirmed. "But none of them say what he looks like."

"So?" Foxy said. "I guess I saw a picture of him sometime."

"We don't have pictures of him here," Griffiths said. "Most documents that did have images of him have been thrown away—and as far as I know, you never had access to them."

"Sir?" Douglas said as he went to stand next to Griffiths.

The manager glanced at him, then handed him the document he was holding. "Bill gave me this just now," Griffiths said.

Douglas took it with a frown and started reading.

 _With the recurrent glitches most of the animatronics suffered from following their activation—these glitches included, but were not limited to, frequent blinking, jerking movements in the neck and limbs, and other seemingly random motions—the main three performers were shut down permanently, as all efforts to remove these glitches failed._

 _The fourth one was an exception; the crimson fox-themed animatronic known as Foxy displayed notably less glitchy behavior, and was therefore moved to a different location after deactivation. Here, Foxy's AI was reset. Over the years that followed, the animatronic was outfitted with more modern technology, eventually even receiving a completely new endoskeleton._

 _Using its virtually perfect AI as an example, more animatronics were created. Freddy's Restaurant ultimately came to exist, featuring a duo of gold-colored animatronic performers. These were eventually replaced by newer models, whose appearances were more faithful to the first animatronics'. In addition to Foxy's successor, the original Foxy was also added to this group._

Below the text, another piece of paper was attached with a paperclip. _Sorry, Bill. I didn't even know they'd moved Foxy someplace else. I wasn't the one who unloaded the cargo from my truck, so I didn't get to see that she wasn't among them.  
\- H_

Douglas blinked. Then he read the document again. Then he lowered it, his mouth agape, his gaze turning to Foxy.

"Can somebody please tell me what's goin' on?" Foxy finally said. "You're all freakin' me out."

"Give her the document," Afton ordered. Douglas did so.

Foxy proceeded to read it, holding it so that Mangle could read with her. As they read, their eyes widened, their expressions turned from neutral to incredulous to _shocked_.

When they were done, Foxy lowered the paper, stumbling as if she was drunk.

"I'm…" She stopped. "I'm one of the old models?"

Douglas exhaled, turning to Griffiths. "Sir," he said. "Shouldn't you…have known about this? You worked for the company when the old models were still around, didn't you?"

"I wasn't aware that Foxy would be kept intact for later use," Griffiths softly said. "I thought she was to be scrapped like the others. When I was a janitor at the old company—before it was truly a restaurant—I saw the old Foxy. When I saw the current Foxy years later, I recognized her similarities to her predecessor—but I assumed the creators merely wanted to pay homage to the past."

"The truth is," Bill grimly said to Foxy, "that they basically wiped your memory and gave you some technological upgrades. The others always pretended to glitch so they could hang out with me. You didn't have to; you were located in a more separate part of the building, so I could visit you whenever I wanted without anyone knowing about it."

"That's why your name sounded so familiar to me…" Foxy said as she sat down with her back against the wall. Mangle went to sit next to her. "Guess they couldn't wipe my memory completely…"

"Your sentience might make you less dependent on your programming," Griffiths speculated.

A moment of silence. "Maybe we should leave," Douglas softly said.

"Yeah," Afton said. "I, ah, still have some stuff to do myself…" He silently looked at Douglas with a gaze that said, "Make sure she's going to be alright." Douglas silently nodded.

Afton left through the front door. "Perhaps I should return some other time," Griffiths said as he moved in the same direction. "Is everything going to be all right, here?"

"Yes, sir," Douglas said, quieting his voice so only Griffiths could hear him. "I suppose I should…tell the others. With Foxy's permission, of course."

Griffiths nodded, then left as well. Douglas locked the door behind him.

He returned to the dining room, where he glanced at the two she-foxes. Foxy was sitting remarkably still, looking to the ground. Mangle turned her gaze to Douglas when he appeared.

Douglas proceeded to leave the room. He could break the news to the others later. Right now, he should leave Foxy alone.

"You're not goin' to ask for permission?"

He turned to Foxy when she spoke. She was still looking down. "You heard everything we said back there, didn't you…" Douglas said. "Well…I thought telling the others about this could wait, so…"

"You're not surprised that I'm upset 'bout this?" Foxy softly asked.

"Why would I be?"

Foxy shrugged. "I dunno. Guess there's no logical reason for me to be like this. Almost feels like I'm exaggerating."

Douglas stepped closer. "Foxy. You just found out that you got your memory wiped. A memory of a previous life. I'd guess it makes you look differently at…pretty much everything."

"I s'pose it does."

A brief silence. Douglas hesitated, glancing to the nearby hallway. "Should I…"

"Stay here?" Foxy said. "Yeah, definitely."

Douglas blinked.

Foxy glanced up at him. "I'd…appreciate that."

Douglas looked at her for a second. Then he nodded and sat down next to her.


	11. Epilogue - Loose ends

**Luiginaryworker553:** _Thank you, thank you!  
I'm glad you're still enjoying this…but I don't know how much I'll work on the series in the near future after this episode. I intend to at least let the series rest; I may continue after finishing certain other stories though._

* * *

 _Epilogue – Loose ends_

 **Daytime**

"So Griffiths lets you make calls now?" Douglas said to his phone.

 _"_ _Yup,"_ Spring chirped. _"You should've seen his face when he brought the phone to our little room. Goldie gave him quite a scare when she teleported into his office to ask for it."_

"Then tell her to _not_ teleport into his office," Douglas grumbled. "She's scared me a few times now, and I let that slide. Griffiths can use his position to get revenge—and I wouldn't be _too_ surprised to see that happen."

Spring giggled. _"I'll tell her."_ She paused. _"Hey…about Foxy."_

Douglas remained silent. After sitting next to Foxy and Mangle for a while last night, the three of them had told the others the truth. Foxy herself never completely recovered; her energetic, mischievous demeanor had been replaced by a timid, downcast silence.

 _"_ _She really appreciates your support. I just wanted you to know that."_

Douglas paused. "We're going to have to choose our words carefully in any conversations we'll have with her from now on," he finally said. "She's not going to be alright for at least a while. Just don't bring up the whole…thing."

 _"_ _We won't. But we_ will _eventually have to face this. If we ever meet our predecessors—which we might at some point—things will get really bad for her."_

"Yeah, you're right," Douglas sighed. "When that time comes—in whatever shape or form—I'll contact Bill. See if we can't soften the blow, somehow. He's got history with her, so he might be able to help."

 _"_ _Gotcha."_ She paused. _"Oh. Looks like Kyle wants his phone back. See ya tonight, Douglas!"_

"Bye." The call ended.

Douglas stood up from his seat and put the phone down. Intending to get some groceries, he reached for his jacket.

The phone rang again.

With a frown, Douglas answered it. "Douglas Goodwin."

 _"_ _Douglas,"_ his father's voice greeted. _"I think I found the perfect job for you. It's a part-time job that doesn't interfere too much with your college hours."_

Douglas swallowed. Great. "I'm…not going to college again, Dad. I'm-I'm staying with my current job."

 _"_ _I'm afraid that's not an option,"_ Nicholas said, his voice suddenly low. _"I already made preparations."_

Douglas' eyes widened.

 _"_ _You'll be rejoining Coldland University. I've made some beginnings to your application, but I need you to complete it. I have the necessary funds ready."_

Douglas wasn't sure what it was that washed over him when he heard that. It was…some kind of emptiness. His father had prepared an application. His _own father_ had told him to abandon his friends at Freddy's. Was that really what it took to gain Nicholas' approval?

Then he remembered something. Something Brunette had told him a few nights ago. _Alright, I know this isn't my business, but it's not your father who's supposed to be controlling your life._

 _If you want to work here, then I guess that's something he has to deal with._

"No," Douglas said with an unusual strength in his voice. He suddenly felt enraged. "I'm not going back to college."

Silence. _"You do realize that I'm still your father?"_ Nicholas finally said.

"A father who still thinks his twenty-year-old son is supposed to follow him without question. You don't get to decide what my job is going to be or who my friends are."

 _"_ _I'm not proud of it. But if I hadn't done this—"_

"Cancel it," Douglas blurted out.

 _"_ _Did you just interrupt me, boy?"_

"A friend at work is going through a lot right now. So far, she's been there for me—and now I need to be there for her."

 _"_ _Douglas,"_ Nicholas said, _"I'm sorry to hear about your friend. But this is still no excuse to stay there; everyone goes through tough times now and then. If she wants to talk about her problems, she should talk to a psychologist. You shouldn't be spending time with this when professional help is a better option."_

Douglas gasped silently. What was this monster he was talking to?! He'd never seen eye to eye with his father, but this was a whole new level. Nicholas must've been desperate.

That didn't excuse what he just said, though. Not by a long shot.

"I honestly can't believe you," Douglas whispered.

 _"_ _You don't know the first thing about psychology. You shouldn't be wasting time trying to help someone you can't help."_

Douglas clenched his fist. "I should end this call here and now, shouldn't I?"

 _"_ _What?"_

"Cancel that college application. Or don't. I don't care, I won't go either way. It's your money you'd be wasting."

 _"_ _College is your future!"_

"Before and during college, I was always brought down by the other students. Unlike them, the people I met at Freddy's are worth talking to. I'll let you guess which I like better. Now…" He looked at his watch. "I need to get groceries, if you'll excuse me."

Before Nicholas could retort, Douglas hung up.

* * *

A knock came at Griffiths' office door.

"Come in," Griffiths said, already suspecting who it might be.

The door opened and Foxy snuck in, looking over her shoulder to ensure no one saw her.

Griffiths put down his paperwork. "No one saw you?" he asked.

Foxy shook her head.

Good. Griffiths stood up and locked the door. "Have a seat, Foxy."

She silently obeyed. Griffiths sat back down in his usual chair.

"I've been thinking for a few hours if I should tell you this," Griffiths said. "And in all honesty, I am still hesitant, but I decided that you are entitled to know what I've found."

Foxy let out a chuckle. "A few hours, huh…"

"It's about…what we discovered last night. About your past."

"What is it?"

"I just read another document Bill Afton sent to me." Griffiths paused, looking Foxy straight in the eye. "As it turns out, those memories that were removed from you were never truly erased."

She stared at him. "What're you sayin'…?"

"I'm saying that we may be able to recover your old memories. Apparently, they were stored in some other computer or AI. Finding them shouldn't be too much of an issue. But whether or not this should be done isn't my decision to make."

Foxy fell silent. "I, ah…" she finally said. "Thanks for tellin' me this…" She hesitated for a good minute. "Uh…can I sleep on that idea?"

"Of course. Take your time."

"Thanks, boss." She stood up. "I…should get goin'."

"You can take a day off if you want."

She gave a small smile. "Thanks, but no. I'm alright."

She left the office. Griffiths only hoped he'd done the right thing.

* * *

"Thanks for everything, Henry," Bill said through his phone. Amazing that he had phone service in this remote warehouse.

 _"_ _No problem, hoss,"_ Henry said. _"We should get a beer again sometime."_

Bill smiled. "Yeah, we should. You're going to have to remind me sometime in the near future though. I kinda have my hands full at the moment."

 _"_ _Will do."_

When the call ended, Bill turned to the prototronics. "So. I told Griffiths about Foxy's memories. All we have to do now is wait and see what's going to happen."

Bonnie looked at him questioningly. "What do you think?" she asked.

"I think Kyle is going to leave the choice up to her. He seemed a pretty good guy to me. Scrapping plans aside."

"I just hope Foxy's going to say yes," Chica said, glancing down. "Then again, we can't really blame her if she doesn't. We never got our memories wiped."

"You got deactivated," Bill said.

"That's different," Chica said. "All we did was have a really long nap. Foxy just learned about a previous life she can't even remember."

"And now," Freddy softly added, "she may have to choose between two sides."

That drew the others' attention. "What're you talking about?" Bill asked.

"Come now…" Freddy said. "Befriending our successors would already be difficult enough. And even if we would manage that, there'll be a rift—one that Foxy would be stuck in. Do we really want to put her in that position?"

"She's already there."

"Not completely. Not until she regains her memories."

"Well, what else could we do? You can't distance yourself from you successors forever. You'll have to get along eventually. That rift will have to close at some point."

"I suppose…"

"Eh," Bill eventually said. "Doesn't matter now." He stood up. "You all stay here. I'm going to see if I can find something in this warehouse that'll help me remove the rust from your endoskeletons or something. No, I don't care if Griffiths sues me for stealing shit, I'll pay him back if I have to."

When he was off to the stairwell, Chica turned to the others. "He hasn't changed a bit," she said with a smile.


End file.
